


Concentrate

by Inkyfingerstoo



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Innocence, Sexual Tension, Teasing, bethyl, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 15:13:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3900919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkyfingerstoo/pseuds/Inkyfingerstoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set between Still and Alone. Target Practice.</p><p>Daryl Dixon is distracting & Beth Greene gives him a taste of his own medicine</p>
            </blockquote>





	Concentrate

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone ever seen Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves? The Kevin Costner version (don't come at me listing the myriad of inaccuracies and bad accents...in the end I found it overall entertaining and I shan't feel bad about that). This little ficlet is inspired by this scene: (https://youtu.be/1FzNCimrdUM?t=1m44s) (I highly recommend giving it a watch and imagining it in a Bethyl context, it'll warm your heart)
> 
> For any crossbow enthusiasts I apologize at any inaccuracies.

. . .

"You ain't concentratin."

Beth blows out a puff of air in frustration, a frizzy piece of hair along her forehead swaying up then down to rest across her eyebrow. Lowering the crossbow, she turns to her right to glare at the man who spoke.

"You snapped that branch right before I shot, Daryl!"

Shrugging a shoulder he lifts his hand beckoning for the crossbow to be returned to him for reloading.

"Forest ain't gonna quiet down just so you can take the shot. Ain't no walker gonna quiet down neither."

The man is infuriating...though she can begrudgingly admit he has a point. She hands over the crossbow, shaking out the tension in her arms as Daryl lowers it to the ground; placing his foot in the cocking stirrup, the stock resting above his knee, he bends, curling his fingers around the string before glancing up at her.

"Go on," he jerks his chin towards the tree his red rag is spread out on, its corners tucked into the bark to keep it up. There's one bolt stuck just left of center through the red material (her first shot, no distractions), a second bolt rests about a foot above it (he had tossed a rock that had caught her periphery, causing the miss. After the shot she had turned to glare and found him looking stoically at the missed shot, not meeting her eyes, which is Daryl's version of 'innocent,' before he took the crossbow back to reload), and the third bolt is somewhere in the leafy debris of the forest floor to the right of the intended tree.

Pressing her lips together, cheeks reddening in agitation, she unsheathes her knife and makes her way to the tree to retrieve the bolts, walking cautiously and quietly. If she's honest with herself the frustration stems more from missing the target than Daryl. It's not even a moving target for crying out loud! She wants to be good at this - needs to be good at it. Not only to prove something to Daryl but to herself. She knows she's better than what she's showing, always able to find the target, something ingrained in her bones that helps her zero in and hit her mark exactly where she intends. Although you do have to account for different factors when shooting a crossbow compared to a gun, the overall principals are similar enough that she shouldn't be having this much trouble. She hopes this isn't one of those, "Hits the target dead center when by yourself, but do it in front of a crowd and all your skill embarrassingly vanishes," situations. Though Daryl's certainly not helping with his distracting twig snapping and rock throwing and smirking and...general presence.

After a long search, trepidation creeping up her spine that she lost and wasted precious ammunition with such a terrible miss, she sighs in relief when she spots the neon green fletching poking out of a bed of dead leaves.

Using her shirt to wipe off the bits of wet dirt clinging to the arrow point she muses on Daryl's shooting tips. Watch the shot the whole way (which is what she definitely didn't do the third time, having immediately turned to give Daryl a stony glare), relax the shoulders, squeeze, don't pull the trigger, concentrate (duh, Daryl), etc.

As she gets to the tree to carefully extract the bolts, folding the red rag back into the bark an idea comes to her, causing a small smile to grow on her lips. Turning back to where Daryl stands with the crossbow, head down to keep the smile hidden she walks up to him, twirling one of the arrows around her fingers.

"Come on, Greene I ain't-"

"I wanna see you shoot again," she interrupts.

"It's practice what's gonna help. Not watchin' me." But he's already reaching for the arrow in her left hand and notching it into the flight groove.

Setting his feet and lifting the crossbow to sight at the target, Beth steps close but slightly behind and to the right of him, about a foot away. He immediately tenses, sensing her closeness. She leans closer, her chest about six inches from his elbow. His eyes dart to her, and she schools her face into an expression of feigned eagerness, desirous of taking in every component of crossbow shooting. His eyebrows scrunch in discomfort but he says nothing. Returning his glare to the target, he closes his eyes, seeming to give himself an internal shake then steeling himself and opening his eyes, focused, all hunter...all killer.

Beth watches for the moment his shoulders relax as he puts all his concentration into the crossbow and the target. Allowing the noise of the forest to wash over him, becoming an additional element of it all, not fighting against it. The second she see's it, she clears her throat and coughs.

Daryl lowers the crossbow in exasperation turning to meet her wide-eyes, innocence written all over her face.

"What?"

"Very funny, girl."

Beth crosses her arms. "Concentrate," she sasses.

"Tch," Daryl rolls his eyes before lifting the crossbow once again.

Beth shuffles her feet, uncaring of the noise the leaves crunching under boots make and clears her throat, unable to keep the smile from her lips, but this time Daryl allows the noise, letting it become part of his environment and she watches in fascination as calm and focus once again washes over him, even more so than before.

And then she goes in for the kill.

Leaning closer, careful to not actually touch him, because that's not the game, about an inch of space between his arm and her chest, she rises to her toes, tips her chin up and blows softly, fluttering the dark hair around his ear just as his finger squeezes the trigger and giant twitch rolls through him.

She steps back quickly and says nothing as he lowers the crossbow so that it carelessly dangles from his right hand, both staring into the forest where the arrow disappeared into.

"Well-"

"Shut it." He growls as he stomps into the woods to begin the search.

Beth bites her bottom lip, relishing the red tinge of his ears before taking mercy on the poor man and following him into the woods to help with the search.

They look in silence for over ten minutes...well, relative silence. Daryl seems to be unmindful of his noise, kicking at the leaves, their crackling swish overwhelming all other sounds of the forest. Luckily, Beth spots the arrow before Daryl's little leaf kicking tantrum brings any walkers upon them.

"I think I got it now," Beth says, handing the arrow to him and swallowing down the giggle that wants to escape at his disgruntled expression. Her eyes rove over his face, underneath the pieces of hair dangling across his cheeks, a slight red tinge remains and he's chewing aggressively on his lower lip. Her expression softens and she gifts him with a gentle smile.

Daryl meets her gaze, eyes darting between them, before dropping to her mouth for half a second then away. "Yeah," he grunts, before a small smirk lifts the corner of his mouth and he turns away quickly, returning to the target tree.

Had Beth not been concentrating, she would have missed it.

 

fin.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
